They smiled at each other, two halves made whole, and Saeldian smiled, because anyone would.
Verandil slapped Kell on the back. “And this bit of snow is nothing—you’re debonair, my friend! The ladies, the gentlemen, the between, the outside, and the both—they’ve got no chance. So long as your voice hasn’t gone to rust and your knees don’t creak.”
“My knees will do, in a pinch.”
They hugged one more time before Kell twisted to wave his hand at them. “This is my friend Lorzok the Seeker. He’s a steward of Silvanus, in the circle of the land.”
Verandil bowed. “Seeker, what do you seek?”
“The place where nature’s voice is clearest,” Lorzok said. He nodded a respectful greeting. “You are Verandil Sureshot.”
“I was,” Verandil said. “As a child. Now I’m Verandil Merrynote. But who is this lovely lady? I’m charmed already.”
He bowed to Jubilee, who smiled at the road. “Oh, stop.”
Verandil only smiled wider. “After you blushing like that? Never.”
Kell cleared his throat. “This is Jubilee Righthoof ofWaterdeep. She’s a trap-breaker, puzzle master, comic actor, and quickfinger.”
“So you’ll steal my purse and my heart? Rob me, then. I meet my fate with joy.”
Verandil was exactly the kind of flirt that Jubilee liked best. He was theatrical, playing his admiration as if an audience watched, and that took all the seriousness out of it. She smiled, tossed her shiny hair, and said, “Keep talking like that and I’ll steal your blankets.”
He laughed, his eyes bright with surprise. He lifted his hand and cradled Jubilee’s fingers in his gentle hold as he kissed her knuckles. Then he stepped back to let Kell continue, looking expectantly at them.
“That’s Saeldian.” Kell’s pointing finger missed them by a foot before he flourished an introduction to the almiraj. “This is the Impatient Made Small Under Moonlight, but he likes Timtim. He met us as we came to the Feywild, so he’s a new friend.”
“Greetings, the Impatient Made Small Under Moonlight,” Verandil said gravely. “No heart is so strong as the hare’s.”
Timtim rose to his hind legs and nodded to Verandil before hopping over to lean against Saeldian’s ankle. Timtim’s small, warm pressure made Saeldian go through Osalor’s posture drill. Wrists behind the median line, but only just. Head raised and floating over the neck, just where it feels balanced and sure. Firm up the first muscle that starts your smile.
Verandil looked perplexed. He looked to Kell and then back at Saeldian.
What a wretched thing they must look, if an almiraj was moved to comfort them. Wretched, and snubbed, and they would not cry, not even when they were so tired, it frayed their control.
“Saeldian is an illusionist,” Jubilee said. “We wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for them.”
Lorzok nodded and spoke over Kell’s scowl. “They used every shred of talent and cleverness to help us make it to the moon gate into the Feywild, escape a witch, and navigate the truewild to reunite you with Kell after all these years. They are probably tired and hungry after all that—Saeldian? Do you need to rest?”
Everyone turned toward them, looking concerned.
“I’m fine. My feet, however, are objecting. Strenuously.”
It took everything to make the joke, though. The sting of tears still threatened, and crying would be awful. They really looked that bad. That weak. That hurt by Kell’s disregard—but they weren’t. They were just tired from wringing every last scrap of power and wit it took to hand-deliver that ungrateful little—
“We have had quite a day so far,” Jubilee said. “And we haven’t stopped to rest or eat for miles.”
“I’m all right. I saw an inn back there.”
Even their voice was weak and lost. Pathetic. No poise. No polish—
Timtim’s warmth on their ankle withdrew. Verandil had swept them off their feet, carrying them like the maiden of a heroic tale. Saeldian looped their arms around his neck by reflex.
“The Silver Goblet?” Verandil scoffed. “Thieves and robbers. You’ll eat in the village, and you can rest in the wagon bed. It’ll be comfortable enough.”
Saeldian, no longer standing through grit and willpower, couldn’t even get up the energy to struggle. “I’m really all right, it’s not far to—”
“Shut up,” Verandil said kindly. “I’m driving the gruit back to the Brewmistress. You’ll have your supper, and you will sleep on sweet herbs and a soft bed. You brought Kell back to me.”
